


Where The Capgrass Grows

by Paranormal_Shitness



Series: Constants [2]
Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: As In Cock And Ball Torture InCase You Think I Mean Congnitive Behavioral Therapy, Blowjobs kind of, Booker Is A Terrible Father, Dick Feeding, Extremely Underage, F/M, Father/Daughter, Father/Daughter Incest, Illusions To Ball Stomping, Incest, Masturbation, Obviously My Faith In Men Is Nonexistent, Parent/Child Incest, Pedophilia, Period Prose, Please Don’t Read This If You’ll Feel The Need To Ask About My Childhood It Was Whack, Pre Elizabeth, Pure Heroine Cough Syrup, References To CBT, Straight Out Nonce Shit, That Kind Of CBT Hasn’t Been Invented Yet, alcohol and drug use, dead dove do not eat, porn w/o plot, slight pregnancy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranormal_Shitness/pseuds/Paranormal_Shitness
Summary: BOOKER NO!





	Where The Capgrass Grows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PsychoBug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoBug/gifts).



> What if there was a reason Booker DeWitt thought some random rich dude would be a better guardian for his daughter than he was? 
> 
> Set before Booker makes the deal woth Robert Lutece to sell his daughter to Comstock. Yes that means what you think.
> 
> EDIT: _As of some time last week, this is officially my highest grossing fic as far as hits go. Not really sure what that means considering the small audience of the Bioshock fandom and the even smaller niche this was intended for (ageplayers in the fandom) but I’m assuming, due to the content, this is a bad response._
> 
> _Sorry I guess. This was just me sexualizing an sfm model like some kind of reddit neckbeard. I don’t really feel bad._  
>  ReEDIT: _According to AO3’s guidelines, this fic is actually protected content and reporting it will do nothing._

The need come up like the lines of heat off a black road on a hot summer day on the flat midriff of America, even as he lay at one of the country’s relatively North Easterly points. Come up heavy so it swam across his body like a dry-river painted over the day by mirage and bit down on his bones in waves. The kind of gnawing need that’s fit to rouse one from a deep slumber. It grabbed him by the wrists and shook so hard as to throw him straight from his dream state, with it’s constant war, right into the possession of desire.

By the time his mind’d even turned over a full round that he came into wakefulness fully, he was already hand to grip on his favorite gun. That entertaining one right down in between his legs. He woke with a groan already on his mouth, half formed in its obscenity and impossible to stifle in all the excitement. 

The drink was still on him, he knew, and more than that the half bottle of cough medicine he’d swallowed to get himself down for the night. It buzzed comfortingly, dizzyingly behind his eyes that ever he closed them the world spun at a sedate pace. Made his nerves all a tinge of more pleasurable sensation as the calluses on the pads of his fingers pulled his foreskin down, treating it like a lady’s unders he didn’t want to rip off too quickly.

He wouldn’t be long. Whatever half dream had got him going it had been too much. Likely something about Annabelle. Maybe the way she’d looked all heavy with his child, unable to get out of bed for near a whole month towards the end of it.

He groaned again, louder this time, not really able to establish a good rhythm in his state but not needing it either. How long’d it even been since he saw to himself like this? He had no idea. All he really knew was it could no longer be put off. Like an unwanted chore left to pile up too long, he would deal with it now or suffer dearly.

Something slick, might have been the fever sweat, might have been a running leak from the tip of his cock, eased the glide of his fingers. Fell into that space slightly reminiscent of a warm, wet mouth so he dug his heels in on the mattress and heaved air out between his teeth like a dying animal.

He was close. Close to that end point. That blissful few seconds of nothingness that comes with that most pleasant of bodily releases. He sucked air down his throat like a man in a desert drinking his last drops of water, and tightened down around the feeling to try and hold onto it a second before he let it tip. The pads of his fingers pressed desperately at the base of his shaft, right in above the balls so it hurt a bit not to cum as the first spasm hit.

He whined through the feeling, ready to let go and have it gutter out over his hands when the sharp and abrupt call of a wailing baby sliced through his fervor.

Anna.

In his desperation, he’d forgotten she lay sleeping just behind the door. All his noise-making must have woken her.

He froze and all the muscles in his body went vice-rigid. There was a split second in which he actually considered letting the baby cry. Just ignoring it and continuing with his own pleasure. But he’d heard that sometimes little things could cry themselves to vomit and asphyxiate on their own juices lying on their backs. A terrifying enough concept that the simple thought of it brought him back from the cusp of orgasm enough to let himself go. Enough to roll out of bed and pad barefoot across the floor to comfort her.

The wood beneath his feet was that kind of dull cold you get in summer. His toes gripped against the roughening grain as he tottered upright. It was far from his mind, the thought to tuck himself back away, just as it was near his mind how frustrated his aborted attempt to relieve himself had left him. 

The room tilted up on his right one moment and his left the next so he felt as though he wobbled rather than walked properly across it to Anna’s bedroom door. More an appropriated closet than anything. Clumsy, he reached out, hand landing heavy on the knob. It turned with all the scraping and clawing of the gates to hell on it’s rusty old hinges.

He just had to calm her down quickly, get her drifting back off to sleep so he could finish himself off and follow suit. She fussed angrily against the distant-drifting, quiet innercity sounds that fell through the doorway with him. His daughter. Tiny and precious and likely the largest annoyance in his life even as she was his greatest comfort. 

With the sky outside that still against the office’s single window, he knew the hour was too late if not too early for him to run to a neighbor with a promise he’d pay if only she’d lend her breast. But it was as a baby’s right to wake hungry in the wee hours and he had nothing to offer which meant she would need to be contented with her pacifier. 

If he could only find the damn thing in the dark.

He laid a worried hand on the edge of the cradle as he searched, to rock her back and forth, but this did nothing to assuage her anguish. Oh he’d kick himself harder if the good leg he had left wasn’t so wrung out on cheap gin and heroine. It was clear as day this predicament was his fault. As was her missing pacifier, he realized. He’d sold it to a woman with a newborn last week for a dollar which was gross upselling on account of both their pressing needs.

‘I’m a terrible father,’ he admitted apologetically over the edge of the cradle. 

Anna only cried louder. 

A groan ground out his mouth. ‘Anna, I’m sorry,’ he said.

The baby did not forgive him. She cried still more mercilessly until he fumbled his way into the chair in the corner and laid a hand on her stomach. 

‘I’m here,’ he promised, which did seem to manage some form of soothing the child. 

It was clear she was peckish. He could see it on the lines of stress on her little face, the way she balled her hands up into fists over and over again. He had nothing to feed her and he’d lost her pacifier. They’d both have to make due with substitutions.

Turned out, the kid was happy as anything to suckle on a finger. Didn’t care it wasn’t a tit half so much as long as she had something in her mouth. Once she had the first knuckle of his index between the mush of her gums she was content to quiet up some.

He sighed and took a deep breath. Wasn’t long he’d been a parent but from what he’d learned from Anna by now, it’d be minutes to hours here beside her trying to get hear back down and he’d no way to tell which. A type of exhaustion washed over him. Not of a physical sort so much as of a spiritual kind. As if he’d endured some blow to something internally, suddenly realizing all that which he’d been left to give up as Annabelle slipped through his fingers. 

This little thing was all he had left and sometimes it got in his head he could hardly stand her despite the fact. As though she were the nose on which he wished to vent his frustrations with the face. By shit if she’d only given him another moment, half a minute even, that he could have to himself. To see to his own needs for once. 

His cock ached heavy against the open fly of his longpants. By fuck, he missed Annabelle with a physical kind of ache. With a painful kind of wrongness in the knowledge that he should crave her for more than the body he’d lost. As weren’t those left behind supposed to fixate on a smile or a laugh? Something sweet an innocent. The kind of thing you could tell the child you still had. Why couldn’t he stop craving that carnality lost with Annabelle? The simple physicality of her mouth, her tits, her cunt.

Now, the closest he could get was Anna.

He didn’t really consider the possibility of attending both their needs at once before he found himself at it, dragging the wrong hand over himself clumsily.

Anna cooed at him and gnoshed her gums against the knob of his knuckle. He could remember Annabelle, mean bitch that she was, intentionally dragging her teeth across the lip of his glans. He’d always liked that shit more than he should have. Could remember a fairer number of times that sort of trick had been his undoing rather than not.

‘Fuck,’ he groaned, laying his head against the edge of the cradle. ‘You know how bad I miss your mother?’ He asked her.

She made a happy noise and blinked slowly at him, same way Tantrum’d used to when he fed the beast a sugar cube back in cavalry days. Pleased as a prostitute leafing his wallet after properly gainful employment. 

‘That woman was a right fucking terror,’ he told his daughter, groaning as he fingered the cleft just beneath his dick-head. Beads of slick rolled over his knuckles as Anna’s gums did. 

‘She had this pair of boots,’ he recounted, more to himself than the baby because even in this way he knew she couldn’t understand a shit worth of what he was babbling. ‘Mens boots I think only, just tiny-size. Whenever she put them on,’ he broke off in a groan and his fingers jumped down almost instinctually so his hand could strangle his testicles agains the chair seat, ‘I lost my fucking mind.’ 

Anna cooed ignorantly around his finger. 

‘You know you’ve got her eyes?’ He asked her.

She didn’t answer with anything other than one of those sloppy baby smiles. 

‘Shit,’ he thought aloud, ‘You are gonna look just like her.’ The reality of that settled at the base of his dick as a warm buzz. 

Anna was bound to be gorgeous. He could half see her in his mind’s eye. All grown up. Fuck if only he hadn’t lost all Annabelle’s clothes to her parents after everything happened he’d have handed them down to her. She’d probably have been proud to wear them too. 

His excitement was fevery again in his veins but a clumsy, left handed jerk, didn’t seem to prove enough for his finish.

‘Fuck,’ he hissed again. ‘If she was here now-‘ 

He wasn’t sure what he meant to say to finish that thought, because impulse took him then. The chair clattered across the floor as he lurched unevenly to his feet. It’s commotion was joined shortly by the impact of his hand on the wall as he leaned heavily across the cradle, tipping it one side.

She seemed neither perturbed by this nor unhappy to continue as instinct told her. By suckling at whatever he provided. In a decicive moment that could never be undone her tiny mouth met the head of his dick. His breath hitched up high in his throat as he let his proper hand take over care of his shaft.

‘Your mother did this too,’ he told Anna, who seemed to think this was all a relaxing bedtime game. ‘And she was _damn_ good at it.’

She balled her little fist up against his glans and he swore blue to black against the chipping paper on the wall. 

‘Maybe I can teach you to match her,’ he suggested to no one in particular.

He was edging into the territory of perilously close. A buzz had taken his hips from the root of his cock, down into his scrotum. 

‘God, Anna,’ he whined. 

In the end it was tugging his own fingernails sharp-down against his foreskin that pulled him over the edge into an orgasm. His breath failed as it shuddered out and he only had a split second in which to experience regret before he looked down and realized she had simply swallowed what he had to offer as if it were any type natural milk.

‘Fuck,’ he said to the nothing listening in on his transgressions. ‘You really are her daughter.’

Anna cooed contentedly as he eased his weight off the cradle that she could rock back level. She seemed much more tired now, and he felt of a similar mind. Sleep was quite close behind such release. A comfort to stave off the inevitable guilt of another sinful action on his conscience.


End file.
